


Joyride

by teaandjumpers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 22:28:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandjumpers/pseuds/teaandjumpers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean slips out of the motel room in the middle of the night, Castiel knows exactly where the older Winchester is going. He had that look in his eye, the same look of adrenaline-fueled recklessness he gets every time he does this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joyride

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place sometime during the fifth season.

When Dean slips out of the motel room in the middle of the night, Castiel knows exactly where the older Winchester is going. He had that look in his eye, the same look of adrenaline-fueled recklessness he gets every time he does this.

So, because the world was ending, because Castiel believed Dean Winchester deserved every bit of pleasure he was able to squeeze out of this mortal coil, no matter how dangerous it was or how perverse it seemed, Cas let the man leave—but not before slipping into the backseat of the Impala, watching quietly and unseen as Dean navigated through the darkened roads.

As soon as Dean parks the car in an open field, Cas moves to stand in front of the hood of the car. He waits for Dean to turn the ignition off, open the passenger door, slide out, and hop on to the hood of the Impala. 

After a quick scan of the area, Dean slides his body up the car’s frame and lies back, his head resting just below the windshield. Like all the other times he has done this, he lets out a sharp huff air and proceeds to unbuckle his belt, pushing his jeans and boxers down till they pool around his ankles.

He lies there, looking up at the sky, breathing in and out as his palms splay across the black hood. The light from the stars illuminates his face and Castiel leans in close to watch the muscles in Dean’s jaw and brow relax. It’s moments like these, when Dean’s face is not weighed down by the burdens that have been piling up since his mother died, that Dean looks—he looks heartbreakingly beautiful.

Castiel imagines that this revelation of his would scandalize Dean, the idea of him being thought of anything less than badass. But he is, truly, beautiful. 

Dean’s left hand strokes the metal of his car as the other travels down his body and grabs a hold of himself. 

Castiel wonders why Dean does this; why when there were about a hundred beings that were constantly hunting him, he would expose himself in such away. Perhaps it made him feel alive, more alive than drinking himself to a stupor and sleeping with nameless women. Castiel has watched the way Dean shivers and writhes against his car when he finally unravels, a release that Dean undoubtedly feels in his bones. 

Dean’s strokes grow faster and Castiel climbs up on the hood, plants his hands on either side of Dean’s head and drinks up the view that’s being offered to him. He can feel Dean’s heated breaths on his cheek. He looks down at this creature, the one out of the six billion that he was chosen to watch over and he counts his blessings, every single one that’s stitched into his very being.

Dean’s breath hitches and Castiel digs his nails into the glossy paint of the impala. The lights flicker on and off and Dean lets out a hoarse chuckle.

“Might as well show yourself.” The hand on his cock is still insistent, working its way up and down its hard length. “I know you’re there.”

Castiel makes himself visible and Dean, Dean doesn’t even bat an eye at finding an angel perched over him, eagerly lapping up the air between them. He bites at his lip and arches his neck to the side.

“You like watching me, Cas? You like watching me get off?”

Castiel doesn’t respond. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, but he does send a burst of energy out in an affirmation of Dean’s claim, and the Impala roars to life beneath them. 

Dean moans and arches his back, his stomach rising up so that it’s just a hair’s breath away from Cas’ body. “Do you hover on up there and touch yourself while you think of this. Think of me?”

Castiel never did. He never let himself. But maybe he would this time. He swore to himself that he would protect this man, no matter what the cost. But who was to say that he would get out of this alive with his wings and memory intact.

So maybe he would this time. After. After he made sure Dean was back safely in his motel room.

Dean grabs Castiel by the shirt and pulls him closer. He groans Cas’ name, begs him to touch him, mark him, burn his skin again, do anything apart from looking down at him like some sexually frustrated puppy. 

“Don’t, Dean,” says Cas, his voice coarse, his words curt.

Dean lets out a string of curses ending with a quiet “fucking angel.” He keeps his hand fisted in Cas’s shirt and pumps himself till he comes, spilling over the both of them. 

Cas gives in an inch, buries his face in Dean’s neck, whispers Dean’s name against the man’s skin, tasting the tang of Dean’s sweat on his lips. 

He forces himself to pull back before he lets himself do something stupid, like take Dean against the hood of the car, ride him till the sun rises and the metal of the car's hood dents.

“Coward,” says Dean with little heat. He curls onto his side and his eyes flutter shut.

Cas rolls his eyes, not up at the sky or at Dean, but at himself for putting himself in this situation. At the beck and call, at the mercy of one Dean Winchester.

He pulls up Dean’s jeans and wraps himself around the other man, pressing his chest against Dean’s back, willing warmth onto the other man and feeling the grace within him rattle at the thought of Dean’s skin ever growing cold.

**Author's Note:**

> My first Supernatural fic. A bit nervous about it, so feedback, of any kind, would be greatly appreciated.


End file.
